Ezekiel's POV
By the time I dragged myself through my front door, dawn was creeping across the horizon in pale streaks. Anton and I had burned through hours at that all-night diner on Route 17, pushing around lukewarm coffee and dancing around everything that mattered. We'd talked about the fight without really talking about it, mentioned Ximena without saying her name too often, circled around the mess I'd created without finding any real solutions.
All I wanted now was to collapse into bed and forget the world existed for a few hours.
But my phone had other plans.
It buzzed relentlessly in my jacket pocket as I kicked off my boots and dropped my keys on the kitchen counter. The screen lit up like a fireworks display when I finally pulled it out.
Notifications everywhere. Messages flooding in faster than I could count them.
Group chats exploding. Social media mentions piling up. Video tags multiplying by the minute.
"Holy shit, Enzo went nuclear last night!"
